


Third Time's a Charm

by orphan_account



Series: Drabble Prompts [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: GyuHao meet-cutes gone sour.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: Drabble Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1216728
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Third Time's a Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fljot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fljot/gifts).



> so a really long while back my friend gave me a set of prompts to write and i could choose one for gyuhao but instead i ran with it and wrote a small three parter meet cutes gone wrong thing! so this is for her, i hope she'll still enjoy HFJKASDHF
> 
> Prompts:  
> \- character a is a very unhappy uber driver and character b just puked in their car after a long night out and way too many drinks  
> \- you broke into my apartment while you were drunk thinking it was your friend's house, and i should really call the cops on you but my cat/dog likes you so we're cool, i guess?  
> \- you overheard me yell at my friends that i could do a cartwheel at 2am and now you HAVE to see if this drunk idiot can do it

**The first time you meet him, he’s sick to his stomach and you just want to go home.**

Minghao’s hands are tight, knuckles bleached violently white even in the dark of the car, fingers indenting prints into the steering wheel at the sound of heaving in the backseat. He hears a quiet, ‘ _oh shit,_ ’ that follows and then more heaving, leaving his own stomach rolling with sickness.

“Hey… we made a mess.”

His shoulders are a tight silhouette to the guests in the back, backlit by the dashboard and his face from what can be captured in the rearview mirror is nothing short of considering murder.

“No shit, I can smell it.”

“Can’t help that he’s got a weak stomach.”

Fingers press down on buttons in the door as the windows glide downward and Minghao says nothing, letting the invasion of frigid air wash out the sickly stench hanging around the interior.

“It’s freezing,” the statement is weak and the voice accompanying it sounds raw from a previous upheaval of alcohol.

“Deal with it.”

“I’m gonna get sick.”

“You already were.”

“Not like that.”

“Deal with it,” he repeats, foot steady on the gas as he pushes toward their destination. Silence blankets the group of four, crackling radio songs disappearing in the heavy ambience of cold wind and shaking breaths. Minghao’s knuckles ache and it presses him further to end their journey, half tempted to leave the unwelcome customers left to the side of the road to walk the rest of the way, but a sense of guilt washes over him at a glance to the tired, flushed expression of the one he’s assuming complained of the cold. He rolls up the windows in the back.

The rest of the drive is hushed and there’s a careful clamber of limbs maneuvering around the sick on the carpet when they stop outside a well lit hotel. Minghao sighs and only glances toward the outside, watching the trio assess each other and he’s about to drive off when the tallest of the three ducks down to the passenger’s window. He notes the same ruddy cheeks he’d seen in the rearview mirror, the ashamed upturn at the corner of his mouth and the sympathetic furrow between full brows.

“If you wanna bill us for the mess, I wouldn’t blame you.”

He’s half tempted.

“Just rate me well and we’ll call it even.”

There’s a pause and they stare at each other in the silence.

“Okay… Sorry.”

“Take care of yourself.”

He’s offered a nod and another smile laced with guilt as he pulls away from the curb.

**The second time you meet him he’s in your living room and Seokmin’s dog is on his chest.**

The door handle sticks slightly to Minghao’s bare palm as he enters the apartment, idly shaking the extremity while flexing his fingers to return blood flower through the joints. The dim glow of the apartment goes unregistered until he turns around and realizes a stranger lies asleep on his couch. The features of the guest are vaguely familiar he realizes and he wonders if this is one of Seokmin’s friends from the way his roommate’s dog lies on the other’s chest.

Footfalls are deafened by carpet as he makes his way to the lanky figure, removing the small poodle from his chest before prodding fingers into his shoulder. He’s met with a groan and he realizes where he’s seen this face.

“Hey, vomit comet, get up.”

“What?”

“Get up. You’re in my house.”

His posture straightens from where he’s lying down, Minghao watching with little sympathy in the raise of his brow when the other grabs his head.

“This isn’t your place? It’s Soonyoung’s?”

“Might as well be with how often he and Seokmin spend time together, but no.”

“He told me it’s his place.”

“He’s a liar.”

Both boys start back as a third voice interjects from the kitchen, “I knew he was there.”

Minghao’s hands move before his mouth does, grasping a pillow stolen from under the home invader’s feet as it’s flung towards the back of Soonyoung’s head.

“Why did _you_ invite him _here_?”

“Because my place looks like shit!”

“That’s not my problem!”

Soonyoung whines in the back of his throat, “Hao, please let me hang out with him here?”

The older pouts with emphasis in attempts to gain the younger’s favour, the third party watching between the two of them as the silent show down occurs till Minghao cracks.

“Fine! But if either of you fucks up the apartment–-”

“You’ll kill us?” 

The stranger laughs at his own joke from where he’s sat on the couch, making the other turn and focus a gaze that forces a chill down his spine and chokes the air from his throat, halting the laughter.

“You’ll wish that’s all I did.”

**The last time you meet him, you’re at a house party as a guest instead of a ride and he’s convinced alcohol makes him a gymnast.**

His voice rises above the crowd before Minghao registers a recognition for the tone, causing several dozens of eyes to turn toward the center of the backyard, watching as a boy too tall for his own body moved against the hands of the others in closest proximity to him.

“Just stand back, only professionals should be doing this.”

“You’re barely even qualified, Mingyu.”

“I’m more qualified than you, Boo.”

“Doubt it.”

The taller– Mingyu– sticks his tongue out in retort. Minghao can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in response to it.

He moves closer, standing just behind the rest of the crowd and focusing on the giggling boy standing what could roughly be considered the center of the newly formed circle of people. The self proclaimed professional stands back, hands up, flushed face smiling too brightly for someone focused on performing a technical stunt, and feet a width apart before he leans forward and dips to the grass.

The crowds’ breath stills as his palms plant into the ground, a small wave of relief mingled with shock as his body follows in a swift enough motion after, but the victory is short lived. Minghao watches as Mingyu’s elbow locks and mumbles he’s gonna collapse, the boy in front of him–Jun– whipping his head back at the remark, brows raised. Hao just shrugs and nods toward him, ‘ _look_.’

Sure enough, his arm folds under him, the side of his face colliding into the grass with his body crumpling after, the crowd groaning with a mixture of laughter and applause for an entertaining spectacle either way. As it dissipates, Minghao moves closer with the remainders of the group, the performer’s friends, he muses, and some of his own company it seems too. Mingyu lies on the ground below them, face scraped and eyes shut but otherwise in an okay condition.

“Pretty shit at that, huh?”

“I told you you’re not qualified.”

“No one can actually be considered qualified for a cartwheel.”

Minghao laughs, “I guess we should tell gymnasts to quit then, huh?”

Mingyu’s eyes flutter open at his voice, some of the other’s turning to his voice while Soonyoung and Seokmin giggle at his remark.

“Why are you always at my most embarrassing moments?”

The addressed shifts to confusion for a moment, before recognition crosses his features, “You threw up in my car.”

Seungkwan laughs, “Oh my god, _you’re_ the hot uber drive he’s been griping about?”

Mingyu’s rosy cheeks elevate to a vivid scarlet and Minghao feels heat rise like a Mercury thermometer in his neck.

“What?”

Soonyoung decides to interject, “Ooh, this is why you were so upset when he found you at the apartment too, huh?”

Seungkwan laughs even louder at that before Mingyu hits his ankle, “I hate you guys.”

“Don’t worry, fuck up just a little bit more and he’ll realize your charm is in your clumsiness.”

The victim to the assailing words rises from the ground, dirt still clinging in his hair and shoulders with Seokmin reaching carefully to brush it from his clothes, “Stop being so mean to him guys.”

“Oh no, he’s earned it, I think he’s given Hao hypertension with how he’s managed to piss him off.”

Minghao snorts and shakes his head while Mingyu glares at the rest, turning back to the other with a sheepish gaze.

“I’m really sorry about that, by the way… I’ll still accept late billing for the floor mats.”

“…Just give me your number and we’ll call it even.”


End file.
